Brockhall: Book One
by Snowstripe the Fierce
Summary: This is the tale of an ancient hero from far-off seasons, Lady Sable Brock, and her friends, allies, and companions. Please read and review.
1. Prologue

_My name is Sable. I am the last of the Erudites, Lady of Brockhall, and have lived much longer than the longest badgermums ever have. I have been a Tabura, blacksmith, warrior, general, freedom fighter, mother, teacher, and friend in this long lifetime. I have outlived those dear friends I had back in what feels like yesterday._

 _My story has been intertwined with many beasts, many of them being my fellow badgers. I know not who you are, where you hail from, and what purpose you have in the seasons to come, but I know that if you have found this manuscript written in Badger Runic, then you must have been intended to read it. Of course, I will have been dead by hundreds of seasons by the time you were born from your mother's womb._

 _I hope you will come to realize that those far-off seasons that I lived in were ones of war, rage, and violence unthinkable, nothing like the ones you most likely live in today. It was what my brave and loyal friends, allies, and companions did, for the greater good, mind you, that gave you such bountiful harvests, peace, and happiness that you have today._

 _Thus I begin my Chronicle, the Chronicle of the Brock, that is filled with tragedy, death, war, and destruction, but also allies, friends, harmony, and nobility._

 _May you learn something from it._


	2. Chapter One

Across the Cruel North Sea, a Carrack was seen trudging its way through the bitter waves. A cold eastern wind scored its sides, but the it kept moving.

This ship was the _Plague_ , which had originated from the Land of Ice and Snow, been traded, stolen, bought and inherited by countless beasts before it. She had served many masters in her long life, and always did as intended. Her captain currently was a pine marten by the name of Martimosa, who had stolen it by slaying its last captain, an old rat worn and gray from many long seasons of fighting a killing.

He wore a smart royal blue tailcoat, with a red scrap of cloth as a headband. The ship was due South, to the Warm Country, as many beasts had called it. For many seasons, many conquerors and warlords had attempted to claim those lands as their own. But none ever returned. Some thought it meant they had succeeded, others thought that they had failed.

This did not matter to Martimosa. He was young, and had much more energy than other beasts before him. He had much more support, as well as a much larger crew. He had more skill when it came to organization of attacks and raids than other beasts. Whether or not any beasts before him had succeeded or not was irrelevant. If they had, the marten doubted that they were strong enough yet to defend their territory or land. Even if they were, revolts were bound to happen, and they certainly couldn't be up to battling two armies at once. If they hadn't, then the beasts of the south wouldn't be prepared for defending their land, considering that nobeast had ever been there for them to fight.

The marten leaned back and sighed, imagining his victory and life as a King, far away from the cruel northern wars of the rivaling wolverine and wolves in the Land of Ice and Snow.

* * *

In the silence of the Great Woodland, a cloaked figure ran. The figure was large, but looked injured. It was revealed in the moonlight to be a female badger. She was carrying a young badger in her paws, with a bloody wound in her back. She ran from nobeast, rather against Time itself.

The moon rose higher and closer into the middle of the sky. The female badger ran faster, seething with pain, she ran into a clearing. Near the center was a small oak sapling. The female badger practically threw herself on the ground. Gently laying the babe next to the oak sapling, tears ran down her face, and she wiped her eyes with a sleeve.

"Dear Eru, you never told me this would be so hard..." she rasped through sobs.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, the mother badger spoke:

"Nutha Eru, muun te shain vyrne.

Fath Nutha Eru, muun te shain vyrne.

Sleep my babe, never fear,

She will watch you, I know, my dear,

grow strong, sweet babe, soon return here,

sleep, sleep 'til the Dawn's light draws near."

The mother kissed her babe on the broad white stripe down the middle of her face. touching it with two claws, touching the pads of the badgerbabe's paws.

"B-be strong, my sweet, be strong. You must learn yourself what I cannot teach you. She watches you, She always does. Her eyes follow your path. You will be the last of us. It is your destiny. I want y-you to return here someday. It is important to Her Plan." she opened her mouth to speak, but found a lump in her throat. Tears streamed down her face as she spoke. "I love you, and you are my world, my Sable."

The badger mother turned her head rapidly, kissed her daughter on the stripe one final time, and ran off.

The badgerbabe, Sable Erudite, slept on, unaware of her destiny or the life she would grow to live.

* * *

 **Hey guys! Sorry for the rather short first chapter. Idk if I'll go through with this story, but if you want me to, tell me in a review. :)**


	3. Chapter Two

It was a warm and sunny morn in Mossflower Woods, and three beasts, two moles and a squirrel, were out on their daily stroll. One of the moles, a male named Spadle, sniffed in the cool spring air.

"Sure is better'n any wuther oi've ever seen afore. Cool breezes, warm sunloight, an' green as fur as ee oi c'n see." he said.

"Oi, sure 'tis. Reminds me of moi bumbly days as ee molerbabe." replied his wife, the female mole named Clovia. Her companion, a female squirrel named Tiff, nodded briskly.

"Ain't no place I'd rather live in than Mossflower Wood. 'Tis a special place, just for beasts like us."

"Howsabout we'm go over thataway, durlin'?" Clovia asked he husband Spadle, pointing toward the left with a digging claw.

"But we'm never go that way, Clovia. We'm always have gone to thurr roight." he replied.

"But ye never do know, moi dear. Fur alls we know, thurr could be uther folk loik ussuns down thurr. They could be molers!"

Spadle tugged on his shirtsleeve. "Urrm, Tiff! Where do ee think we'm should go?"

The squirrel looked both ways. "My paws are gettin' used to that ground we usually walk. I say we go left, afore my legs fall asleep on that trail."

Spadle, always willing to accept defeat, grunted and walked on with the others.

* * *

On their way, the three entered a rather large sunny clearing. Clovia pointed to a hill. "Let's lay down over thurr. Ee sun'll shoine down on urr heads."

Tiff nodded. "It'll do me paws good t' get some rest. Ain't nothin' better'n a good nap. My paws ain't what they used t' be."

Spadle laughed heartily. "You'm been sayin' that fur twenny seasons!"

Tiff turned to him. "Aye, an' my tired ole paws haven't been what they used t' be fer twenny seasons!"

At this, they all laughed. Clovia wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. After laying down, they all closed their eyes and breathed in the cool spring air. Tiff got up.

"Blast it, can't get comfortable with th' sun in my eyes. I'm goner go over t' that tree and lay there." and with that, she went over to lie beneath a birch tree.

They all relaxed in silence, until it was broken by a light squeaky sound.

"Is 'at you'm, Tiff?" Spadle asked.

Tiff sat up, grunting. "I 'aven't made no noise like that 'un since me days wi' me wet nurse. Wasn't me."

Clovia got up. "Sounds like 'ee h'infant."

Spadle listened again. "Seems t' me it's comin' from ee roight. Cummon, Tiff, we'm better foind 'ee babe."

* * *

After a while of looking, the three entered another clearing, and the sound was much louder. Clovia's motherly instincts led her to a hill. Spadle was definitely confused.

"Clovia, what're 'ee doin'? We'm already laid 'ee down!"

Tiff sighed. "C'mon, Spadle! Don't ye know anythin' about mothers?! They know these things!"

Clovia was standing atop the small hill, breathing slowly. Spadle and Tiff caught up to her, and they soon saw what she was looking at.

It was a badgerbabe, larger than most, with ash-gray fur, and thick white stripe on her face and muzzle. It was obviously a female. She had dark, lustrous eyes like stones darkened and smoothed by a river. They focused directly on Clovia.

The molewife stepped forward and scooped up the babe in her paws. It was evidently heavier than expected, as she grunted picking it up.

"She'm one of 'ee sablur creeturs. Feel 'er pelt."

Spadle stepped forward, patting the babe's head. "'Ee fur's loike moler."

Tiff nodded. She's got sable fur. I think that's what we should call her, Sable. What do ye think o' that, Clovia?"

Clovia nodded, wrapping the babe in a cloth she had in her dress pocket. "Sabler. Oi like 'at name."


End file.
